


baby, you’ve got a stew going

by peaktotheocean



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Families of Choice, Good Parent Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:33:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22658617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peaktotheocean/pseuds/peaktotheocean
Summary: "Don't argue with me. She needs to eat.""You both need to eat," Geralt grumbled but followed Jaskier inside the building, eyes immediately going to the tavern window to where the storm they had just left was still raging full force. He'd rather be out in it.-or-It's Jaskier's turn to provide for their little family in a mostly harmless albeit humiliating way that Geralt can't even bear to look at which Jaskier would find sweet if they weren't all starving
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 28
Kudos: 1006





	baby, you’ve got a stew going

It was the first village they had seen in a near two weeks. Thirteen miserable and rainy days. After the first four days, Ciri had been the only one Roach allowed to ride her, with Jaskier and Geralt walking along either side of her as unsubtle bodyguards.

It had been a slow journey but as Jaskier had joked two nights prior while huddled together in a tent with Geralt: "At least we don't have food or coin to weigh us down." Unsurprisingly, that hadn't gotten a response from the witcher. 

Geralt's eyes swept over the meager village. No one was out in the weather, especially not with it being so late in the day. "They're not going to be free with coin for either of us. We would have heard by now if they had need of a contract. We should move on."

"Your faith in me is truly astounding, Geralt," Jaskier said, attempting to be upbeat even as the rain turned sideways. 

Geralt didn't audibly respond but he did narrow his eyes slightly as if he already knew what was going through Jaskier's mind. Jaskier walked around to the other side of Roach, hoping for some sanctuary from the rain, as their little group headed towards the town stables. 

Geralt still said nothing as he took the saddle off of Roach and set it aside. He turned back to gently brush her and Jaskier did the same to Ciri, plaiting the girl's damp, frizzy hair to tuck underneath her collar. She leaned her back against his front, which made the job difficult but Jaskier didn't dare nudge her forward. 

"Jaskier," Geralt finally grunted when the bard herded them towards the village tavern. They all knew very well that they had no coin left.

"Don't argue with me. She needs to eat."

"You both need to eat," Geralt grumbled but followed him inside the building, eyes immediately going to the tavern window to where the storm they had just left was still raging full force. He'd rather be out in it.

"You're not going out there again. Any animal you might have hunted down for us is hiding and even a witcher isn't going to have that luck," Jaskier tried to reason. Geralt didn't turn and look at him yet, still focused on the rain. Jaskier sighed and moved closer to Ciri, placing his arm around her shoulders. He lowered his voice and leaned closer to Geralt. 

"Please," he said quietly. "We're already going to be sleeping with Roach. She needs to eat," he repeated himself.

Geralt didn't acknowledge him but his failure to argue meant he knew Jaskier was right and they both knew it. 

“I don’t—“ Ciri tried to pipe up.

“You do, sweetheart,” Jaskier said, as gently as he could. “And we’re going to make that happen.” She looked unsure but Jaskier blamed that on being in a crowded tavern. She was always uncertain around crowds now and he couldn't blame her. They weren't attracting too much attention which he counted as a blessing. He didn't want to ruin his reputation entirely. 

Jaskier held out his lute’s headstock to Ciri, gently cradling the delicately inlaid body in both of his hands. “Go on then, twist a few of knobs. We want this to be as out of tune as possible.”

Ciri’s frown only deepened but Jaskier was determined to show her this wasn’t a trick. He pulled back the instrument and loosened a few of the tuning pegs himself, testing out the strings as he went. “Good lord that’s flat,” he groaned, winking at Ciri. Geralt still didn't turn around. Jaskier didn't expect him to. He stepped forward, kissed the top of Ciri's head, and gently pushed her towards Geralt. 

Then, as if a switch had been flipped, Jaskier turned around in a expansive sweeping motion. "Lovely ladies and handsome gentlemen! How are we on this fine night then?" He called out to a tavern full of villagers who could give two shits. His voice was pitched ever so slightly and he tried not to wince as he strummed his obnoxiously out of tune lute. 

"Might I entertain you all with a song or two from my youth?" He asked cheekily as he made his way to a large empty space among the tables.

With that, at least, Jaskier wasn't lying. The songs he planned on playing weren't the ones about Geralt that he had gained minor notoriety for but rather the ones he had written when he was fifteen and in love with the blacksmith's son _and_ daughter. A tragic summer for certain, but young Jaskier's talent hadn't exactly been put into practice yet. The songs were-- in short-- terrible. And they would sound even worse with a lute that hadn't been properly tuned. 

Jaskier had only strummed a few cords when he felt something hit his thigh. Not the best aim in the village perhaps but Jaskier stepped around the quarter of a turnip, trying not to eye it hungrily. As he played more, trying to balance between the howling of a sick dog and a croaking frog, it was joined by more turnip pieces, a whole half potato, and a few spare bones. He kept an eye on the ground so not to trip over any of the treasures. 

No one was outwardly furious at him, luckily enough. They were all just pissed enough to throw things at him rather than confronting him. Granted, he couldn't be sure how long his luck would hold out. He found that two songs were really his hard limit when it came to awful performances like this. Any more than that and particularly annoyed villagers who might have had a bad day would want to physically confront him with more than just vegetables. They couldn't afford that tonight. 

His voice cracked on the last note of his second and final song and he thought, or at least hoped, that he had heard Ciri giggle at it but he was too far away to know for sure. A carrot hit him right on the temple and Jaskier thanked whoever might have been listening that only one villager seemed to have good aim tonight. 

As he let the last horrendous chord play out, Jaskier quickly knelt down and gathered up the abandoned vegetables. He slipped the pieces into his side pocket as deftly as he could before anyone could take advantage of his position and knock him over. Not that they'd get far but if Geralt got into a fight in the one tavern in town, they really would have to move on quickly and spend another night in a rain-soaked tent instead of in the stables with Roach. 

Jaskier straightened up and kept his hand on the neck of his lute, debating if he should go just for one more song and risk it. Before he could decide, Geralt suddenly stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the floor and Jaskier froze. His witcher was a few meters away from him and though they were in no danger-- that was that. His performance, if one could even call it that, was over for the night.

Geralt had lasted longer than Jaskier expected he would. The first time Jaskier had done this terrible performance routine, Geralt had stormed out of the inn and refused to eat any of the food Jaskier had gathered even though the bard knew he secretly enjoyed artichokes. It was sweet, in a way, that Geralt hated Jaskier putting himself through such an idiotic show just so they could eat. In retaliation, Jaskier had woken up to Geralt skinning a full-grown stag. While he appreciated the meat, and later the new fur cloak, he began the long exhausting journey of convincing Geralt that sometimes needs must. Geralt hadn't agreed. 

Not that it was Jaskier's favorite thing either, whether in actual practice or the sullen witcher that came afterwards. Without a word, Geralt led them out to the stables, patting Roach apologetically as they entered her stall. 

“Go on,” Jaskier encouraged Ciri, too brightly for a man who just had a carrot whipped at his head and wet hair matted to his forehead. She held out her hands and he placed in them a few pieces of turnip and the half of potato. Her eyes grew wide. Jaskier knew how much she loved roast potatoes. They were lucky it had stayed intact after flying through the air and hitting him. 

“We’ve got plenty," he told her. Which wasn’t exactly a lie but they had enough for the two of them since Jaskier knew Geralt would refuse to take any at all. He had a feeling they might wake up to another stag but he hoped Geralt would at least wait until the rain stopped.

Ciri ate slowly, knowledgable enough to know how to treat her empty stomach with caution. Jaskier hated how quickly she had learned that but he reminded himself that their low profile over the past few weeks was for the best. They couldn't afford to draw attention to themselves. 

“I like it when you really play," she told him earnestly, after swallowing her half potato. Her still-engrained manners stopped her from even thinking about speaking with her mouth full. 

Jaskier pulled her close to his side, still rolling the carrot in one of his hands, not quite ready to eat it just yet. “Thank you, dear. Perhaps in the next village, I'll be able to give a real show. Go on now, get your kit out and let's get some rest.” 

Ciri obeyed easily, thank goodness. She had been a godsend even through the rain, never complaining even when she was well within her right. Jaskier liked to think he complained enough for all three of them even when he was really just talking to fill the empty space. 

“Staying awake?” Jaskier asked Geralt quietly as he watched him settle their packs far from Roach and the entrance to the stall.

Geralt nodded, just once. 

“All right. I’ll play Ciri to sleep then.”

“Please!” Ciri said excitedly, pulling on Geralt's hand to have him sit down next to her on the fresh bed of straw. Jaskier didn't bother trying to hide his smile at the sight of Geralt easily obeying her, without any argument.

“This is a private conversation, your highness,” Jaskier said cheekily, ignoring that Geralt had stiffened up, as he always did whenever Jaskier called attention to Ciri’s royalty in public. Jaskier argued with him once on this, claiming that many loving fathers referred to their daughters as princesses and the only thing that stopped Geralt from snapping at him was the pleased, shy smile on Ciri’s face.

Jaskier let out an exaggerated groan as he lowered himself onto the straw. It was certainly better than the hard dirt under his bedroll the last two weeks. He pressed up against Geralt’s side and re-tuned his lute, mentally apologizing to it for his performance in the bar. Softly strumming, he chose to hum rather than sing as Ciri wrapped herself in her bedroll and a fur, taking up Geralt’s entire other side.

It only took a few moments of soft strumming for Ciri's eyes to close even with her arm wrapped tight around Geralt's thigh. 

Geralt's voice broke through Jaskier's quiet chords. “Are you hurt?” 

“They were vegetables, Geralt. Mostly cooked vegetables,” Jaskier told him. Geralt continued to stare at him. He sighed, “No, I’m not hurt. The hardest thing they threw was a bone of some kind and it barely made contact. Hard head, you know?”

Geralt pulled Jaskier closely, being careful of his lute and how Ciri was curled up on his opposite side. He kissed the side of Jaskier’s head right where the carrot had hit him. So he had been watching at least.

“I know you don’t like it,” Jaskier said softly, pushing himself into Geralt’s space while he opportunity was still available. It rarely was during the tougher journeys. “But she needed to eat and it was the only way tonight. I’m not even bruised.”

“You're talented,” Geralt grumbled. “It’s not...you. Those...songs," he said with disgust, like whatever Jaskier played wasn't even worthy of the word. 

Jaskier felt his face warm and he gave into temptation, pressing his face into Geralt's shoulder. “I’m going to do you a favor and forget you complimented me because otherwise I’d be reminding you about it every hour, on the hour.” 

Geralt didn't say anything but his arm wound itself around Jaskier's waist and that was enough of an answer. 

Jaskier kept talking, he couldn't help it, however quiet, “Your concern is touching and it's not that I don't appreciate it but you’ve done things you’ve disliked for the two of us and we’re partners in this," he reminded him. "A couple pieces of food thrown at me is nothing.”

“Not a competition," Geralt said gruffly. 

“No, of course not but it is an ongoing game and we won tonight's round. Her stomach isn’t full but it’s sated and that’s all right for now.” Jaskier tilted his face so his head was still resting on Geralt's shoulder but so he could see Ciri, peacefully sleeping for now. 

"All right," Geralt repeated. "For now." The arm around Jaskier's waist tightened and he took comfort in the weight as he drifted off to sleep.


End file.
